


Third Drink Conversation [late May, 2019]

by patchfire, raving_liberal



Series: Story of Three Boys [109]
Category: Glee
Genre: Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-16
Updated: 2012-05-16
Packaged: 2017-11-05 11:50:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchfire/pseuds/patchfire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/pseuds/raving_liberal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How did Finn's life end up like this; even outside perspective doesn't help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Third Drink Conversation [late May, 2019]

**Author's Note:**

> One of those points in time where our divergent storylines intersect.

“So, what do you guys drink here?” Finn asks. 

“SweetWater 420,” Karofsky answers, nodding towards the few beers on draft. “Local brew.”

“Sounds good to me, long as you let me buy the first round,” Finn says. “This place is nice. Not like the bars in New York.”

“What are the bars like in New York?” Casey asks. 

“Louder. Fancier.” Finn shrugs. “More crowded.” _More touching. Kurt and Puck._ “More stuff on tap.”

“Gayer?” Karofsky suggests with an amused grin. 

Finn laughs. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it. Not that your bar’s not gay enough or anything. It’s a very nice gay sports bar.”

“We usually come on Wednesdays for trivia,” Karofsky says. 

“Our team is the Buzzkills! I named it,” Casey says. “It’s a great name. We’re a pretty good team, too.”

“Sounds like fun. I don’t really go out that much anymore,” Finn says. “Things are… different. Now.”

“You know.” Karofsky takes a long drink from his beer before continuing. “I was kinda surprised you married her.”

“Yeah, well,” Finn says, also taking a drink. “Yeah. Yeah. Not the only one.”

“Shoulder doing okay?”

“Well, not like school puts that much strain on it,” Finn says. “And you know, it wasn’t. It was well-timed, if that makes sense. More well-timed than it was severe.”

“Couldn’t you have gone back?” Casey asks. “If it wasn’t that bad. Did they think it was worse at the time than it really was?”

Finn’s a little surprised that Karofsky hasn’t told Casey the whole story, but then, it’s kind of a convoluted story to begin with, and it’s not like Karofsky knows all the details. “It was… well, like I told Dave. It was the easy out.”

Casey nods, more like he’s accepting the answer than like he’s understanding it. Poor Karofsky’s probably in for a game of Twenty Questions when he and Casey get home tonight. 

“Remember the magazine spread, Case?” Karofsky points out. “And all the stories?”

Casey nods again. “I liked the magazine. They were nice pictures. Very flattering,” Casey says, though he looks a little embarrassed about it. “But, yeah, I can see how…” A look passes between Casey and Karofsky. “Do you miss it?”

“Yes and no. Usually no. Sometimes a hell of a lot.”

“Sometimes I wonder,” Karofsky admits. “But, well.”

“Yeah, man. I don’t know.” Finn shakes his head. “Not sure if it’d been better with it all out there or, you know. Might have been easier if there were just one of ’em.”

Karofsky sort of splutters for a second and sets his beer down. “Just one?”

Finn shrugs. “So, another beer anybody?”

Casey looks intrigued and mildly scandalized. “Just one _what_?” He looks at Karofsky. “David? One what?”

“I.” Karofsky opens and closes his mouth, looking a little shocked. “I— am I thinking correctly, Hudson?”

“I have no idea what you’re thinking, Karofsky,” Finn says, flagging down a waiter. “But probably.” Finn orders an Irish car bomb. “You guys want one?”

“Just another beer for me,” Karofsky answers, sounding a little stunned still, and Casey shakes his head. As the waiter walks away, Karofsky looks back at Finn. “You wanna explain a little more?”

“Not really, no,” Finn says. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes, more to stall the conversation than anything else, and lights one. “That’s more of a third drink conversation.”

“Then maybe you should go ahead and order that third drink.” Karofsky shakes his head slightly. “Does your brother know about this?”

Finn’s not exactly sure what to call the noise that comes out of his mouth at that. It’s sort of a laugh, but not really. It might not even really be that close to a laugh, but it might pass as one. “Oh. Yeah, well. Yeah. He knows.”

“Just one _what_? What am I missing?” Casey keeps looking between Karofsky and Finn. “One? _Oh._ Oh. Sorry, Finn. Oh.” He puts his hands up to his face and turns bright red. “Too many questions!”

The waiter comes back with Karofsky’s second beer and Finn’s pint of Guinness and shot of Bailey’s. Before Finn can drop the shot glass into the pint glass, Karofsky says, “I think that counts as two drinks.”

“Yeah, well, I haven’t had ’em yet,” Finn says. He drops the shot glass into the pint glass and chugs his drink. When he’s finished, he sets his glass down loudly, then takes another drag from his cigarette. “Ok. So, what’s the question?”

“Two of ’em? At the same time?”

“Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it, man,” Finn says, grinning. Casey turns an even brighter shade of red and his eyes about double in size. 

“You’re gayer than I thought,” Karofsky admits, shaking his head. “How do you— I mean, fuck, I wouldn’t even know where you find something like that. Not that I would want to, honestly, but.” He shrugs. 

“Yeah, it was a package deal,” Finn shrugs. “Didn’t go looking or anything, but, you know.”

“I had no idea Madison, Wisconsin was so… progressive.”

“Yeah, well. Uh. Not Madison, exactly.” Finn looks around for the waiter. Another drink wouldn’t hurt. 

“I’m still really confused,” Casey says. “Was it in Chicago? Chicago’s really, um. Progressive, like David said. So, Chicago?”

“Well, Chicago, _too_ ,” Finn says. “But not, you know. Chicago– _based_.”

“What can I get you–Hey! You’re Bluebird Hudson! Always knew you really did play for our team.”

“I’m just here with friends, man,” Finn says, nodding his head at Karofsky and Casey. “In town with my wife.”

“Uh-huh. Another car bomb?”

“Skip the Guinness and the Bailey’s and just bring the Jameson,” Finn says. “You guys having anything?” When Karofsky and Casey shake their heads, the waiter walks away. 

“Not Madison, not Chicago.” Karofsky takes a drink of beer and laughs. “I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Lima.”

Finn laughs at that, because, well, in a very real way it _was_ Lima. “Well, it was… places.”

“Long term thing?”

“Yeah, you could call it that,” Finn says. “Dunno how you guys define long term. I mean, look at the two of you. Longest fucking love story ever.”

Casey grins and leans against Karofsky. “We needed _time_. Time made it better.”

“Yeah, well,” Finn says. “Not always.”

“Well… how long?” Karofsky asks. 

“Seven, give or take,” Finn says.

“Seven _years_?” Casey asks. “That’s a long time. A really, really long time. That’s since. Oh. _Oh!_ ” Come on, seriously? Is it possible for a person to actually turn that shade of red and not be having a stroke or something.

“Seven years is back in high scho—” Karofsky stops. “Um.”

The waiter comes back by the table with Finn’s Jameson. Finn stubs out his cigarette, picks up his drink, and nods at the waiter before tossing it back. 

“Yeah. ‘Um’ is probably a good way to put it,” Finn says. 

“Really? The two of them?” Karofsky asks, like he needs some kind of confirmation before he can drink any more or move or anything. He jumps a second later when Casey pokes him. 

“ _David!_ You can’t ask that!”

“It’s a valid question!” Karofsky protests.

Finn shrugs. “I brought it up.”

“Still not answering.” Karofsky takes a drink of his beer at last, looking at Finn curiously. 

“Hell, Dave, do you _really_ want to know?” Finn asks. “Look at my fucking life, dude. You really want to know that stuff?”

“Kinda wondering how you got here, to be real honest,” Karofsky admits. 

“Yeah, well, you figure that out, you let me know,” Finn says. “Because I honestly have no fucking clue.”

“Fuck.” Karofsky shakes his head. “That’s— I don’t know, man. I wouldn’t have guessed, but.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t have. Lot of people wouldn’t have,” Finn says, shrugging. “Some people did, though, and here I am. Fuck if I know what to do with that, though.”

“Didn’t Berry have them sing at your wedding?”

“Not _them_. Just Kurt.”

“Still.” Karofsky whistles. 

“Still what?” Finn looks around the bar for the fucking waiter. Guy was perfectly happy to linger around the table earlier and now he’s like some kind of ghost waiter. 

“Kind of rubbing their faces in it?” Karofsky says, making a face. 

Finn levels a look at Karofsky. “Rubbing their faces in _what_? They’re just my brothers, right?”

“Ohhh. Damn.”

“She doesn’t _know_?” Casey asks. “What if she finds out?”

“Fuck if I know,” Finn says. “I don’t know why she does any of the stuff she does. I don’t know how any of this shit even happened. We weren’t even— we hadn’t talked about having kids yet or anything. I thought she wanted to wait, after… I was gonna— well, none of that’s really fucking relevant any more.”

Finally, the fucking waiter comes back over to the table, and Finn goes ahead and orders two more Jamesons, because it’s not like he can count on the guy coming back any time soon. Or maybe Finn’s sense of time is off, and the guy’s a very attentive waiter. Who the fuck even knows, at this point?

“Well. That sucks,” Karofsky offers. 

“Yeah, well. That’s life, right? We all have our roles to play,” Finn says. “Guess I picked that up from my time with them. It’s all about the roles you’re written.”

“Uh, I guess. How— how are they?”

“Married. Happy.” Finn shrugs. 

“They did grad school?” Karofsky asks. 

Finn nods. “Yeah, and they’ve got a musical premiering in August. Off Broadway, but still, it’s a big fucking deal.” He drinks one of his Jamesons. “Yeah, they’re doing, they’re just great.”

“But, Finn,” Casey asks. “Are _you_ happy?” He and Karofsky exchange another look, but at this point, Finn can’t even guess what it’s supposed to be communicating. The last thing he really wants to think too hard about right now is understanding some other happy couple’s silent communication. 

“I have my moments,” Finn says.

“And what are those, exactly?” Karofsky asks. 

Finn picks up his other Jameson and rotates the glass in his hand a little. “Feeling moderately ok at the moment.” He slams back the drink. “Anyway, not like I _never_ see them or anything.”

“Wait, you mean?”

“I mean… yeah, I mean something, I guess,” Finn says. “I don’t know.”

“Seven years, _including_ the last year?”

“These questions are getting kind of personal, don’t you think?” Finn says. 

“ _That’s_ what you consider personal?” Karofsky shakes his head, looking vaguely amused for some reason. 

“Fuck, Dave, I don’t even know anymore,” Finn says. “I have no fucking clue. Just… you two just be happy you figured it out before one of you fucked things up too much.”

“Well.” Karofsky sort of sighs. “Sucks. Sorry, man.”

“Well, it’s nobody’s fault but my own,” Finn says. “Nobody else to blame. I’m a big boy.”

“Still sounds like it kinda sucks.” Karofsky shrugs. “So, uh.” He appears to be thinking, eyes moving around the room. “What about school? You like it?”

“Good so far,” Finn answers. “I like the program. Never thought I’d end up doing something like this, but then, nobody else did either, right?” He shakes his head. “Guess I’m good for something other than football after all.”

“I hear you,” Karofsky nods. “Of course, I’m doing my grad and undergrad at the same place, and I _still_ get some weird looks.” He shrugs. “Could be the way I look, though.”

“I think both of us are a lot smarter than we look,” Finn says. “Well, you probably are, anyway. Me, I guess… it’s selective. Selectively smarter than I look.” He snorts a laugh at himself. “Dumber than oughta be possible, too.” Finn starts looking around for that waiter again. 

“I don’t think either of you look anything other than smart,” Casey says, firmly. “Finn, do you want something to eat? David, maybe we should get something to eat, don’t you think?” 

Karofsky shrugs. “Yeah, I could eat. We could get the appetizer platter.”

“The food here is really good, Finn,” Casey says. “You should eat something. We’ll get food. You can eat it.”

It probably shouldn’t be that funny, hearing _Casey_ being the one pushing Finn to eat something, not after all these years. Casey looks like he eats like a perfectly normal-ish person now, anyway. Still, Finn can’t help but laugh at it, which seems to worry Casey and Karofsky both. 

“Are you okay?” Casey asks. “Maybe we can get you some water.” Karofsky just gives Casey another inscrutable look. 

“I’m fine,” Finn says. “I’m fine.” Then he’s not entirely sure that he said it out loud, so he says it again. “I’m fine. Anyway, enough talking about me. You guys. School, how’s that?”

“Hard,” Karofsky says candidly. “I think I live in the studio. But, you know. Fun, too.”

“He doesn’t really live in the studio,” Casey says. “Don’t listen to him. It’s not that bad.”

“I take a pillow with me some days,” Karofsky says dryly. 

“I disapprove of those days,” Casey counters. “Sleeping should happen at _home_. That’s where people sleep.”

“Also where you read about concrete types.”

“I do it quietly. You can sleep while I read,” Casey says. “Finn’s gonna think I’m reading out loud. I don’t read out loud, Finn.” He grins at Karofsky. “Well, not about concrete, anyway.”

“You did that one time,” Karofsky counters. “You told me I should use the information in class.”

“And you _did_ , didn’t you? Don’t complain. I’m useful.” Casey sticks his tongue out at Karofsky. 

“You’re a brat, is what you are.”

“Yeah, but I’m _your_ brat, so, sorry! Stuck with me!”

Finn watches the two of them going back and forth, like they’ve forgotten Finn’s even there. On the one hand, it’s sort of eerily like the two of them in high school, but on the other, it’s so different. There’s no awkwardness or that weird distance Karofsky used to hold himself at, and Finn thinks it’s funny how people can manage to somehow have both the same relationship they’ve always had and something completely different at the same time. 

“Hey. You still in there, Hudson?” Karofsky’s voice breaks into his thoughts. 

Finn makes a noise to indicate he’s paying attention, then takes a second to shake his head and try to clear it. “Sorry. Thinking. Dangerous stuff.”

“Yeah, I try to avoid it sometimes,” Karofsky laughs. 

“Oh, hush,” Casey says, swatting at Karofsky’s arm. “You do not.”

Karofsky leans over and whispers something in Casey’s ear, which sends Casey into a fit of giggles, and if Finn didn’t know their history, if he didn’t know the long and ugly road it took to get them there, he’d probably feel really jealous right now. As it is, he just feels drunk, and that’s probably plenty complicated enough.


End file.
